


Five (5) Missions Whose Reports Were Greatly Abbreviated

by aubreyli



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drug-Induced Sex, Gore, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreyli/pseuds/aubreyli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years of deep space exploration means that there are mission reports and there are <i>mission reports,</i> because Starfleet doesn't need to know everything, all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tekkurians

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed. All errors are my own.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied (off-screen) violence and non-con in this chapter.

_Despite their eagerness to join the Federation, the immorality of Tekkurian society makes them inappropriate candidates._

 

“Here they are, Starfleet patrons, here they are,” the Tekkurian slave-trader says, a fulsome smile on each of his three mouths.  “All six, accounted for, patrons, all six.  And very expensive they were, if you please, very expensive!”

Beside him, Spock hears Doctor McCoy suck in a harsh breath at the creature’s cavalier tone; even without physical contact, the waves of rage rolling off the human are palpable.  While Spock is not inclined toward human emotional outbursts, he cannot help but share in the doctor’s sentiments when he sees the state of his captain and the rest of their landing party, all of whom had been in excellent physical condition upon their departure to the planet four days prior.

“This specimen, patrons, this specimen,” the Tekkurian adds, jerking his heat whip toward the captain.  “It cost almost as much to buy back as the other five combined, patrons, as the other five!  Five hundred _prolia_ , patrons – and even more,” the mouths are grinning now, “even more, if it was broken.”

The captain’s captors have provided him with a new, clean shirt prior to his release; however, they neglected to change his trousers, and Spock can clearly see the dull, red stains along his waistband.

“Beam them to sick bay,” Spock orders.  “Mr. Scott, ready transporters.”

In the left of his peripheral vision, he sees Ensign Byron – the only one of the six still conscious – shrink away from the hands of the security team as they reach for her.  Without moving his gaze from the Tekkurian, he watches as Nurse Chapel, mouth in a tight, tense line, steps forward and places her arm around Byron’s shoulders. 

This was the ensign’s first away mission.  Spock remembers her excitement upon receiving her assignment.

When the last of the away party are beamed away, the Tekkurian smiles again.  “There you are, patron, there you are.”  He looks pleased, as though this was just another business transition that went well for him.  “I trust, patron, that our... little misunderstanding will not, ah, thwart future business relations?  No harm done, Starfleet patron, no harm done!”

Spock fixes his eyes on the slave trader.

While Lieutenant Uhura and her communications team were negotiating the release of their people, Spock researched the Tekkurian planet’s infrastructure.  He found that the entire surface of the planet is situated above a vast network of subterranean volcanoes.  Further calculation revealed that even a single volcanic eruption, combined with the high oxygen content in the Tekkurian atmosphere, could scorch an area of up to 458 square kilometres, and raise sufficient amounts of ash and dust to block out the sun from the area for approximately 62 of their planetary rotations. 

There are 157 active volcanoes under Tekkuri.  66 of them are within the range of the _Enterprise_ ’s photon torpedoes.

“I believe that decision lies with our _captain_ ,” he says.  Two of the Tekkurian’s smiles falter, and if Spock were human, the sight might have brought him some satisfaction.

The air swirls briefly beside him before Doctor McCoy materializes.  He moves silently behind Spock and says, softly, “Jim wants to see you.”  Concealed by his back, he feels Doctor McCoy gently but firmly uncurl his fingers from the fist that he did not realize he has made.  He hears the low hum of the medical tricorder – odd, he is not damaged – for a few seconds before the doctor releases his hands. 

“Yes,” Spock replies.  His fingertips feel curiously damp.  “Let us leave this place.”


	2. The Nipparians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ubiquitous "aliens-made-us-fuck" mission

_The Nipparians enjoy communal rituals, many of which seeming to revolve around the “Miala-ni-ipa” (trans: Gift of Joy), a locally produced beverage. First Officer Spock and I were invited to participate in the festivities, and as a show of goodwill, we agreed._

 

The orgasm takes him by surprise, knocking his head back against the bed and ripping a moan from his throat.  “Oh, oh _God_ ,” he gasps, his pinned hands clenching around nothing as pleasure blazes through his nervous system.

Above him, he hears Spock groan.  With the few nerve endings that have not relegated themselves to experiencing orgasmic ecstasy, he feels the hot splash of Spock’s semen inside him, and for a moment, he sighs in relief and thinks, _finally, finally._ But then Spock starts to thrust into him again, his cock as hard as if he didn’t just come ( _“minor physiological differences,” my ass_ ) _,_ still fucking him with the same control and unerring aim that he’d had four hours and at least half a dozen orgasms ago. 

“Sp – _oh_ , Spock, e-enough,” he manages, trying uselessly to writhe away from the hot cock pounding into him.  Each rub of Spock’s cock against his prostate makes him shudder all over again, and it’s too much, too much stimulation so soon after coming.

But if his first officer hears him, he gives no indication; his relentless pace does not change, nor does the merciless force of his thrusts.  He warned Jim when they were told of the _Miala-ni-ipa_ ’s effects that his Vulcan physiology might cause him to react differently to the liquid, but Jim couldn’t have dreamed that _this_ would be the result: Spock like he’s never seen him before, skin limned gold by firelight and smeared with Jim’s sweat, eyes dark, mouth hot and wet against Jim’s flesh, wild and wanton beyond even Jim Kirk’s fantasies.

“Spock, Spock,” he moans, willing to beg if he has to, that he’s had enough, he needs a rest, when Spock shifts his grip on Jim’s wrists and flips him onto his belly.  Jim stiffens in anticipation as long fingers part his buttocks, only to _gasp_ when something decidedly _not_ a cock...  “Oh fuck, _fuck!_ ”

 _I’m going to die,_ he thinks, a little hysterically as Spock’s tongue – his _tongue –_ alternates between flickering licks to the rim of his anus and deep, spine-melting plunges into Jim’s body, cleaning him out and making him tremble and dig his fingers into the bed.  _Spock’s going to fuck me to death and Bones will have to lie on my autopsy report because there’s no way I’m letting Starfleet tell my mom that I died from too much sex._

“Your tendency toward the overdramatic is, as always, most illogical,” Spock murmurs, and Jim tries his hardest to kick Spock in the head, because they’ve had _words_ about the whole not-reading-minds thing.  But then Spock shifts and replaces his tongue with – _oh_ , fingers, just skimming across his sensitive opening, fingertips periodically dipping into the stretched ring of muscle without ever fully entering, and Jim is absolutely amazed to find that he’s actually getting hard – _again_. 

“The _Miala-ni-ipa_ has restorative as well as arousing properties,” Spock says, his voice calm and controlled, as though they’re discussing this matter on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ instead of in a chemically-induced orgy.  Seriously, if he wasn’t making every nerve cell in Jim’s body sing with need, Jim might actually hate him a little bit.  “Any... _damage_ you incur tonight will heal by morning.” 

Which is pretty much Spock’s way of saying, ‘You wanted this, now shut up and take it,’ and really, Jim can’t argue with that, firstly because he was the one who volunteered them both for the ceremony, and secondly because his first officer – fuck, Jim can’t believe that he ever thought sex with a Vulcan would be _boring –_ has finally started fingering him, three fingers sliding easily into his ass with an obscenely wet sound.

“Of course, if you prefer,” Spock continues, and there is no way that Jim will ever be able to listen to Spock’s briefing voice again without getting a really inappropriate erection, “I will sate myself on the other participants until the effects of the _Miala-ni-ipa_ diminish.” 

Jim groans helplessly, a slew of images floating into his head of Spock climbing off him, leaving him slumped in a fucked out daze amidst his own fluids to join in the writhing mass of copulating bodies on the lotus-shaped beds around them.  The Nipparians are a dazzling species, almost as androgynously beautiful as Deltans, as sexually uninhibited as Orions, and with a deep respect for knowledge and intelligence that made his first officer a very popular guest. 

 _Bet they’d love his stamina even more,_ Jim thinks.  They’d have to take turns with him, and even then he’d probably outlast them.  God, he can just imagine Spock lying on his back while a parade of Nipparians line up to mount him, to take his huge, hot cock into their bodies and ride it until they scream with pleasure.

“Spock, come on, fuck me.  Stop teasing, damn you, just _fuck_ me.”  Jim’s squirming now, trying to dig his feet in to get enough leverage to push back against those wicked fingers, only to be shoved down flat on his front.  “ _Spock,_ ” Jim begs, craning his neck and glaring beseechingly at him.

But Spock, the utter _bastard,_ just raises an eyebrow at him, and slides up the length of Jim’s back until his mouth is right up against Jim’s ears.  “I do not believe, Captain,” Spock says, low and sultry (forget his briefing voice; if he ever hears Spock talk like _that_ again, he just might come in his pants), “that you are in any position to make demands.”

And just as Jim is about to voice his protest of that last statement (and maybe also his displeasure that Spock is still calling him “Captain” at a time like this), he feels the press of a now-familiar cock into his ass, and then he’s too busy moaning to do any more thinking.


	3. Keres V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with zombies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor character death, zombie-related gore, and violence.

_Despite their complete lack of genetic similarity, the effect on the fungus on the colonists of Keres V bore several distinct similarities to the effects of O. unilateralis on the Terran Formicinae family._

 

The mission had been going fairly well, all things considered.  Then the zombies turned up.

“How is this even happening?” Jim yells, his voice half-muffled by his contamination suit as he shoves another piece of furniture against the door.  “Scanners showed no life signs – hell, the tricorder _still_ shows no life signs except us!”

“Damn it, Jim, I’m a doctor!” Leonard snarls back, but otherwise focuses his attention on trying to work a hammer and nails with gloves that were clearly not designed for this level of fine motor control.  “I deal with people who are alive or dead.  You let me know when these _things_ make up their minds to be one or the other, and _then_ I’ll have answers for you.”

“ _Braaaiinnss_ ,” moan the stiff, lurching bodies from outside the house.  They grope at the windows with hands that have rotting, skeletal stumps where fingers should be, or wrists that have stumps where hands should be.  It reminds Leonard of those old 2D horror vids that Jocelyn loved and only watched when he wasn’t around, because he’d get annoyed by the inaccuracies and start yelling at the screen.

It’s times like these that Leonard really misses being back on Earth, where dead people have the good manners to stay dead instead of rising from their graves after seemingly having been annihilated by a mysterious, planet-wide plague.

“ _Braaaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnnsssss.”_

“T-The mushrooms we saw earlier must have reanimated the colonists,” Ensign Aka says.  His voice is shaky, and Leonard doesn’t even need to look at him to know that he’s scared shitless.  Aka had gotten assigned to this away mission because he’d specialized in pathogenic biology at the Academy; damned kid was a lab rat, had never even seen a dead body before today, much less one that got up from where it had been lying for days and tried to eat his brain.  Leonard’s pretty sure that he’s pissed himself in his suit a half dozen times by now.

“ _Thank you_ , Mister Obvious,” Leonard retorts, and slams a wooden plank against another window.  Wood, who still uses _wood_ these days?  “Any other insights you’d like to share with the class?”

“Be nice, Bones,” Jim says, casting Leonard a reproachful glare as he flips open his communicator.  “Kirk to _Enterprise –_ status on the transporters?" 

 _“Still down, Captain,”_ comes Spock’s icy voice, and Leonard almost feels sorry for the engineers who are probably cowering under the force of Spock’s not-impatience-because-Vulcans-don’t-feel-impatience – almost, because the door chooses that moment to buckle in under the weight of – _holy fucking hell –_ dozens of zombies, Jim’s furniture barricade no match for their sheer numbers.

“Shit, shit, _shit._ ”  Leonard has his phaser out in a flash, and takes a moment to shove Aka behind him before he starts shooting.  Dimly, he hears Jim shout something into the communicator before his and Aka’s phaser fire joins in the fight.  “Jim, we’re sitting ducks here!  Our phasers—”

“I know!  I’m already at quarter-power.”  He shoots off another zombie’s head; the rest of it falls to the floor, only to be stepped on by the ones after it.  They’re not fast, thank God for small mercies, but they are _so many,_ forcing the three of them backwards as they relentlessly advance.  “We need someplace more defensible—”

“ _Captain, this domicile should be equipped with a freezer room in the lower level,”_ Spock says, which startles Leonard for a moment until he sees Jim’s communicator, open and half-tucked into his belt.  “ _There should be an entrance in the corridor by the north wall.”_

Leonard spares a brief glance towards the corridor by the north wall, and the fifty or so zombies around it, before turning back to Jim – who’s grinning.  “NO,” he says firmly.

Jim laughs, drops his phaser into its holster, and picks up a wooden chair.  “Cover me!”

“NO, I WILL N—”

“ _Captain, this is not an advisable—”_

“S-Sirs?”

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Jim slams into the staggering zombie horde, swinging the chair in front of him like a battering ram, shoving bodies aside left and right.

“Goddamn idiot,” Leonard mutters, and takes off after Jim, yelling over his shoulder for Aka to “ _shut up and shoot!”_  He flanks Jim on one side while the lab-rat takes the other side, firing as fast as they can, not even bothering to aim for heads this time; anything that gets too close gets zapped. 

“Help!” Aka shouts, voice high and shrill with panic as he pulls frantically on the trigger of his – _shit_ – dead phaser. 

Leonard grabs Jim’s off his hip and shoves it at Aka, who immediately shoots dead the zombie grabbing his leg.  They’re almost at the door; the narrowness of the corridor means there are fewer zombies in their way, but it also means it’s harder for Jim to shove aside the ones that are there.

“Explore the galaxy, sure!  Seek out new civilizations, boldly go where no one has gone before?  No sweat.  But nowhere _—”_

“Bones!” 

Leonard lunges toward the zombie with its hands and what’s left of its face on Jim’s shoulder, but Aka gets there first, hauling the creature off Jim and flinging it to the floor, before viciously stomping on its head.  _Huh, kid might make it after all._

“Thanks!” Jim yells, then, “Got it!”  He yanks the door open and shoves Aka and Leonard through it first, because Jim’s a moron who thinks that he should always be the last one to get to safety even when he’s the only one _not carrying a weapon._

“— _nowhere_ in my job description,” Leonard continues, when the three of them are panting against four solid inches of reinforced titanium, “was there _anything_ about having to fight _armies of the undead_ and _please_ tell me you’re done with those transporters, Spock!”

_“The rate of the repairs is directly proportional to the skill of the engineers and inversely proportional to the degree of damage caused by the ion storm.  As your shouting will not alter either of these parameters, I fail to see why you continue to do so.”_

“It gives him emotional security,” Jim replies, smirking at Leonard, who rolls his eyes.  They can still hear the zombies, but only as dull thumps on the other side of the door.  “Take your time, Commander; being stuck here with zombies isn’t fun, but I don’t imagine being blasted into atoms because of a transporter malfunction is fun either.”  He shuts off his communicator, looks over to his other side, and gives Aka a nudge.  “Right, Ensign?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Aka says.  His voice is still unsteady, and he’s physically trembling now.

Jim tilts his head, looking worried.  “Hey, you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, sir, I’m just cold.” Aka shivers again, and tries for a laugh.  He doesn’t quite get there.  “Sorry, sir, I’m Teraxii.”

Leonard frowns.  Sure, their contamination suits don’t have the best insulation, but there’s no way someone who’s survived working under _Spock_ for nine months would be stupid enough to go on an away mission without his thermals, and they’ve only been in the freezer for about a minute.

“Ah, don’t worry, you won’t be here for long,” Jim says, clapping a reassuring hand on the ensign’s shoulder.  “Soon you’ll be back on the ship with an _awesome_ story to tell.  You’ll be the coolest guy in the mess hall for a _week,_ at least.” 

“You think so, sir?” Aka’s smile stays on his face this time, and now that Leonard’s looking for it, he can see the pupil dilation, the sweat plastering his hair to his face, the chalky pallor of his skin that might not be entirely attributed to adrenaline-laced terror. 

An icy tendril of dread claws its way into Leonard’s gut.

“Absolutely!  In fact, where I come from—”

“ _Captain, transporters are operational.”_ Uhura this time, which means Spock’s probably already gone to the transporter room.

“Oh, thank God!” Jim cries, grinning wildly at Leonard and Aka.  “Well, gentlemen, we’ve got the loveliest lady in the galaxy waiting for us up there; let’s not stand her up.  _Enterprise,_ three to beam—”

“Belay that order, _Enterprise._ ”

Jim and Aka both turn to look at Leonard, but all Leonard can see is the back of Aka’s left thigh, and the blue-green stain on his suit. 

“Your contamination suit has been breached, Ensign,” Leonard says, and at any other time, he’d be proud of how calm he sounds, how quickly Aka changes from person to patient (to _corpse_ ) in his head.

Aka looks down.  His entire body jerks when he sees the blood.  “That’s—it’s not—” his head snaps back up, and he looks desperately from Leonard to Jim.  “I-I must have fallen, scratched myself somewhere.  I haven’t been—sir, _please!”_

“Ensign, you know what the protocol is—”

“No, _no!_ ” Aka yells, voice cracking with hysteria.  He whips out Jim’s phaser, and brandishes it at them.  His hand is shaking so badly that he looks far more pathetic than threatening.  “I’m not – you’re _not_ leaving me here.  Please!”

“All right, kid, calm down,” Jim drawls, holding up his hands and rolling his eyes dramatically.  “There’s no need to panic.  The doc’s just being cautious.  You know how he is, someone sneezes and he thinks we’re all getting the Rigel flu.”   He turns his head toward Leonard, though he doesn’t take his eyes off Aka.  “Doctor McCoy, do us all a favour and actually _confirm_ your diagnosis before you give the poor guy a hearts attack.”

“Yes sir.”  Leonard takes out his tricorder and approaches him, moving slowly and cautiously.  Teraxii are not as strong as Vulcans, but they are still almost twice as strong as humans, and every living thing becomes unpredictable when it’s scared.  Leonard bends down, presses one gloved hand against the stained area, and uses his fingers to push aside the torn suit. 

The blood on the suit has dried but the wound is still bleeding sluggishly, indicative of the anticoagulant in the zombies’ saliva (explains how those little bastards always found the three of them no matter where they ran; they just followed the blood).  He rubs the blood away.

Round, continuous arch; small, with a gap in one of the incisors – young, then; probably six or seven years of age.  Height consistent with location of injury.

Leonard stands up, looks at Jim, and nods.  “My mistake.”

Jim pats Aka soundly on his back, so hard that he drops his phaser.  “See?  What did I tell you?”  He grins widely at the kid, his manic _‘sure we almost died horribly but wasn’t that fun?’_ grin that no one can resist, and sure enough, Aka’s turning toward Jim and hesitantly grinning back—

Leonard fires, and Aka drops like a stone.  Jim drops to one knee to catch him on the way down, before his head can hit the ground.

“How long does he have?” Jim asks, quietly.  His face is half-covered by the side of his helmet, but Leonard can still see the hard set of his jaw and the grim line of his mouth.

“An hour.  Maybe two.”  Fever’s one of the last stages, before death.

Jim shakes his head.  “There’s got to be something we can do.  Can we take him with us?  We’ll put him in a contamination unit, quarantine him, hell, put him in cryogenic freeze—”

“Jim,” Leonard says gently, and Jim goes quiet.  “You saw what happened down here.  We can’t take the risk.”

“He’s my crew, Bones.”

“He _was_ your crew.”  Leonard wraps a hand around Jim’s arm and pulls him up onto his feet.  He’ll be Jim’s sympathetic friend later, when they’re in the privacy of his quarters with a bottle of whiskey between them.  Now, he’s got to be the doctor.  “The other four hundred people up there, they’re your crew.  Can you imagine what would happen if this got loose up there?  Four hundred souls, Jim, all stuck in a floating tin can with no escape.”

“I could make it an order,” Jim says hollowly.

“Then I’d declare you emotionally compromised and put Spock in charge.  Then Spock will have to give the order.  He was the one who recommended Aka for this mission, remember?  Are you gonna make Spock kill one of his own men?  Are you gonna put him through that?”

Jim slumps, looking small and defeated.  “No.”  He bends down, picks up the phaser Aka dropped, and switches it to kill.

Leonard looks down at Aka, lying crumpled on the ground like a puppet with cut strings.  Shit, he’s so _young_ – 26 Standard years might be well over the age of majority for Teraxii, but it’s too young for Leonard’s reckoning, too young by _far_ to be dying like this, light-years from home on a mission where his only job was to gather up some samples to take back to the lab.

They can’t even bring his body back. 

Jim aims the phaser.  “I’m so sorry, Ensign.”  And fires.

For a moment, the two of them stand in silence around the body.  The only sound in the room comes from the wheezing of their breath, and the dull pounding of the zombies outside.  Jim taps his communicator.

 _“Captain?”_ Spock again.  Leonard looks at Jim, but he stays silent.   _“Jim?  Is everything all right?”_

“Transporters ready, Commander?”  He sounds like a dead man himself, but if Spock notices, he doesn’t let it show.

_“Transporters ready, Captain.  How many to beam up?”_

Jim raises his head, and looks at Leonard.  His eyes are wet and haunted. 

“Two.”


End file.
